Effort
by Ai Tennshi
Summary: The Shandian warrior had always been able and commanding in battle. But when he fell in love, he found that he didn't have the faintest idea of how to court a woman.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I own nothing recognizable from One Piece._

_Author's Note: This'll probably be about 5 chapters, as I'm planning it at the moment. Enjoy!  
_

**Effort**

How should he have known that he was not as invulnerable as he had thought? He had gone his entire life without ever being attracted to a woman (or a man, for that matter). He had lived two decades of life that way. He had rebuffed young ladies who, he knew, looked at him with those droopy, silly eyes when they thought he wasn't looking. He had avoided womenfolk altogether—except Laki, but she was a warrior.

Hell, he had practically overturned the cottage on the day that Laki's aunt had gently suggested to him that it was time to settle down, and since he obviously wasn't interested in other women in the village, why didn't he consider Laki? That had been the last time he had ever visited Laki and Aisa's home.

So, given his history with other people's attempts to force romance on him and his own utter, total indifference to said romance, he didn't think that he could be blamed for assuming that that state would continue forever.

Perhaps because he had been so certain that he would never experience attraction, it had hit him much harder than he had believed possible. One day, arguing as he always did with the Skypeian girl who attended to him at the health center, it suddenly occurred to him that she was beautiful.

The way her blond hair shone white where rays of light hit it from the cracks in the curtains; the way her small mouth curved faintly down at the corners, as if she was trying desperately not to scowl at him; the way her brow furrowed in the worry that she tried to hide for his sake; the way she worked so hard for him despite every attempt he made to antagonize her.

It was like the observation of her beauty had broken a barrier that he hadn't known existed. Out poured a torrent of suppressed thoughts and desires that he hadn't even realized he was capable of having.

He wanted to undo those buns at the top of her head and the braids that hung down her back, and watch the golden hair spill forth, covering her neck and shoulders like a loose, half-hearted curtain in a doorway that beckoned a newly wedded man into the bedroom of his wife. He wanted to run his fingers through that hair and feel if it was actually as silky as it looked. He wanted to brush his thumb across her small, pink lips, and feel if they were really as soft as they looked. He wanted to press his own lips into the curve of her neck beneath her ear, right above her high collar and see her tilt her neck just a little further, trusting him with all of her. He wanted to see her white cheeks turn red as she wrapped her own arms around his neck and buried her face into the junction of his neck and shoulder. He wanted to be able to nuzzle her hair with his nose as she held him, and hold her to him in turn with his arms around her waist, knowing that he never had to let go.

And suddenly, Wiper was overcome with the knowledge that he wanted—_needed_—Conis.

It also struck him that he had been staring at her, and she was peering into his face curiously, a small furrow between her brows the only thing about her demeanor that indicated that she was concerned. Her face was close—too close.

He dove under the covers, growled, "I'm sleeping. Leave!" and hoped that the feeling would be gone tomorrow. He remained under the covers until he heard the reluctant sigh, footsteps and closing door that meant that Conis had finally gone.

Then he threw off the covers and went to the window. Conis had turned off the light when she left, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark he could see the faint lights in the distance that he knew was his village's new abode among the ruins of their ancestors.

The sight calmed him, and he soon went back to bed and closed his eyes. It was lust, that was all—a natural phenomenon that would soon pass. His good sense would soon catch up to his body, and his affections would direct themselves to some nice Shandian girl.

Wiper lay on the bed, straightened the blanket and closed his eyes, confident in his prediction. He dreamed of white-golden hair and the music of a harp and a smile that he wanted to gaze upon forever.


	2. Chapter 2

When Conis entered the room the next morning, he was ready.

"What?" snapped Wiper in his most fearsome growl.

Conis did not so much as flinch. "You know that I'm here to change the dressing on your wound," she said.

"I don't need it," said Wiper faintly—the memory of her fingers softly brushing skin as she unwound the bandages from his torso filled him with terror that he could not explain.

"Don't be ridiculous," said the young women matter-of-factly. "You don't want your wound festering now, do you?"

He opened his mouth to say that that seemed preferable, but if the girl took that as undue antagonism for no particular reason, she would force him to receive the treatment. "I don't care," he said, and then winced as the look on Conis's face told him that she did not consider that a valid argument in the least.

"I'm afraid that there are too many people who do care for your wellbeing for me to allow you to die of an infection that could have been forestalled." Conis set down the bandages and dressings on the bedside table, and moved to begin removing the bandages. Wiper felt the adrenaline rising in his body and panicked.

"Then get a Shandian to do it," he snapped. "Or better yet, I'll do it myself!"

Conis paused, her face unreadable. Realizing that he had not verbally brought up the Skypeian-Shandian issue since the war had ended, Wiper briefly wondered if she would take that statement as undue antagonism anyway. He waited for the explosion.

It never came.

He was tempted to sigh in relief when Conis stood, gave him a smile, and told him to wait a minute.

She left the room, leaving everything where she had left it on his bedside table. Wiper stared at the door, wondering what she would do. He told himself he didn't care, but the rising anxiety with each passing minute was inescapable. It was his fear that she would bring a doctor, and that that doctor would knock him out on drugs—so Wiper told himself.

It was almost ten minutes later when the door opened and Conis returned, followed by a young Shandian woman whose name escaped Wiper at the moment.

"-just dress his wounds with the aloe poultice every morning after disinfecting. The doctor says that he should be fully recovered in a few more weeks at the rate that he's recovering, but you still have to be vigilant. Oh, and his three meals a day. Do you think you'll be alright?"

The girl looked at Wiper fearfully, and Wiper felt a relief sweep over him—this was familiar territory.

"Yes, ma'am," said the girl. Conis smiled at her.

"Alright then, I'll leave you to it." Then, before she turned away, she hesitated another moment and added gently, "I'm sure you'll do wonderfully."

Conis left, leaving the girl looking at him hesitantly. Wiper wondered if this girl was entirely new.

"I'm going to dress your wounds now, Warrior," said the girl—it was more of a squeak. Wiper just looked at her, entirely unimpressed.

With a small high-pitched noise at the back of her throat that could have been nerves or terror, the girl inched her way towards the bed.

"E-excuse me," she said, and with trembling fingers began to remove the bandages.

The first few rounds of the bandages around his torso were uneventful and Wiper merely watched with amusement, boredom and inexplicably sharp irritation as the girl nervously fumbled and squeaked.

Then the trembles of the bandage around his torso began to _hurt_.

Wiper did credit to his warrior upbringing by not flinching, though it was more surprise than pain that threw him off balance. He had been going through this once every morning, but the pain had stopped being any issue weeks ago. After the initial surprise, the pain was far from difficult to ignore, and Wiper pushed it to the back of his mind as he wondered why it hurt so much now. Was it that his recent agitation had opened a wound or two again? Or re-broken a rib? Or perhaps it was just the fumbling of this girl's fingers.

That matter, too, Wiper pushed to the back of his mind as the girl finished unrolling the bandages. He felt the familiar sting of disinfectant—was the sting more painful than usual?—and then the usually-soothing aloe poultice, which was now only further irritating the wounds.

Conis would be talking while she worked—about her harp or her pet fox or her friends, or anything at all. The Shandian girl's silence was disconcerting. Wiper briefly considered striking up conversation himself: there were any number of things he could talk about with a Shandian, after all. But after a brief moment of thought he tossed the idea aside. He found the thought of having to go through that much effort…irritating.

Wiper sat and endured the girl's fumbling in silence, settling for glaring menacingly at the girl over his shoulder. The girl jumped, and as she applied the ointment to his wounds her hands trembled. Wiper narrowed his eyes, between pain and irritation but definitively more on the irritation side of things.

The girl squeaked and did a terrible job of wrapping Wiper's bandages around his torso. She had barely finished when she grabbed the ointments and ran out again.

Wiper gave a long-suffering sigh. Apparently, not even Shandians could make his predicament any better. He set about removing the bandages in order to re-wrap them.

He had almost finished unwrapping the bandages when the door flew open and a certain blonde stood in the doorframe, her eyes blazing more fiercely than Wiper had ever seen before.

It was probably not the best time to be thinking that she looked even more beautiful when she was angry. Wiper couldn't help it.

"Listen, Wiper-san," she said, and Wiper gulped at the look in her eyes—it made his blood rush. It was merely fear, he assured himself, and then gulped to realize that fear was never "merely"—he was trying to hide something worse than fear behind it. "I frankly don't care _who_ you want to take care of you, but you just scared poor Miki out of her mind! You can deal with me, or you can learn not to scare off the other nurses."

Wiper finally dragged his eyes away from Conis. He had a feeling he was fighting a losing battle on many fronts, anyway.

"I'll deal with you," he grumbled, covertly looking back at Conis. He had hoped for a smile of some sort, at least, but her face only hardened.

"Then let me do that," replied Conis, and taking the bandages from his hands she began to re-wrap them around his torso.

What pain remained was only a lingering echo of what he had experienced with the previous girl, and Wiper wondered how Conis could be so gentle. He briefly considered asking, then decided against it.

Wiper dreaded the beginning of the conversation—but it never came. Conis finished wrapping the bandages, stood and said, "I will bring you your lunch later." And then she was gone.

Something hurt in Wiper's chest—or maybe it stung.

It wasn't his wounds.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note: To everyone who's still following this story—I'm so sorry for the delay, but am delighted to tell you that it's almost done. Updates will be fairly regular from this point on (though there really are only 2 more chapters and maybe an epilogue sort of extra one)._

It took two days of being treated by Conis in silence, of enduring the ache in his chest that intensified whenever she was around and yet so uncharacteristically silent.

He tried to remind himself that he was above emotion and sentimentality. The ache in his chest, however, didn't particularly seem to care what he thought, and persisted stubbornly.

"How is your- your pet fox?" Wiper ventured on the third day.

"Soo is perfectly healthy," said Conis coolly. Wiper gulped. In the past, Conis had gushed ceaselessly about Soo's antics, Soo's food preferences, Soo's favorite music. Was she refusing to talk to him anymore?

_Fine, then,_ Wiper decided. This would all be much easier if the silence was mutual. With sheer force of will, he shoved the ache from his mind and focused on his home. They would be building cloud houses in Upper Yard, he reflected. He would help out as soon as he was able. After that was done—well, Enel's compulsory immigration fee had been abolished, and there was talk of making the ruins a tourist attraction with an entry fee instead. That would require some planning and work.

"Conis?" a voice—a _male_ voice—called from the doorway, and Wiper's head snapped up.

"Ah, Gaja," she smiled. "Just a moment, I'm almost done here."

She gathered up her things.

"Who are you?" Wiper asked the Skypeian man. He tried to sound casual. It came out in a growl.

"Is _this_ the Shandian that still can't get over his hate of Skypeians?" the man asked Conis as if Wiper weren't there.

"Ask him yourself," Conis admonished gently—more gently than she treated him these days, Wiper thought moodily.

"Well, are you?" the man asked Wiper.

"No," growled Wiper.

The man started to laugh. "He's a weird one! Anyway, Conis, you ready to go out to lunch?"

Conis looked at the man with a furrow in her brow. "I've explained to you that I can't-"

"I know, I know," said the man, waving a hand. "But it's just lunch. No harm in lunch, right?"

"I suppose…" said Conis, biting her lip.

"I'll see you in the cafeteria in a few minutes, then," he grinned and was gone.

"Who was that?" Wiper asked, mere moments after the man had gone.

"A friend," said Conis.

"Related to you?" Wiper asked desperately.

"No, just a friend," replied Conis. There was a pause. Then she sighed. "Mr. Wiper… I know that you find it difficult to overcome the hatred you felt for us all your life, but could you at least _try_ to-"

Wiper twisted his torso around and kissed her on the mouth. It was sloppy and awkward, but Wiper felt the silk of her hair against his palm and the softness of her mouth against his own, and thought that he would never be happier.

He heard the _smack_ before he felt the sting spread across his cheek.

"I am a _person_," Conis told him, her face downcast and her shoulders trembling. "I have endured a lot from you, but this is nothing but insulting!" She raised her eyes to his; they were wet, glaring and furious. "Starting tomorrow, you'll have someone else look after you."

"Wait," said Wiper, trying to find the words to express what he wanted to say—but what _did_ he want to say? He rejected all the words that came to mind and searched for something noncommittal but comforting. He could think of nothing, and Conis took the time to gather up her things and storm out of the room.

There was a dull ache spreading throughout his chest, and Wiper tried to convince himself that it was just his healing wounds. He knew that it wasn't. He let himself fall back onto the bed with a frustrated sigh. The impact hurt his shoulder. It did nothing to dull the ache in his chest.

The thought came to him like a seductive tendril of silk among the coarse linen ropes of his other thoughts: _Would it really be so horrible to admit to loving her, to be with her?_

Wiper shook his head. He didn't _do_ things like that. But that had been because of the war—which was over.

Wiper glared at the ceiling. She was Skypeian. But the barriers between their people had crumbled the night that they'd celebrated Enel's defeat in the city of the ancestors, Skypeians, Shandians and pirates as one.

Wiper sat up. What if he admitted to loving her, to wanting to be with her, only for her to reject him? The thought made Wiper let loose a furious _growl_. He was a warrior of Shandora, and he feared _nothing_.

How did these things usually work anyway? Wiper tried to remember what Braham and Genbou had talked about when courting women. But he had scoffed at them at the time from the bottom of his heart—he had paid their words no heed whatsoever.

_Flowers_, he realized suddenly. He remembered seeing a man bringing flowers for a woman when all the injured had been together in one of the buildings in Shandora.

Wiper crossed the room and proceeded to jump out the window. He was just darting past the cafeteria window when something inside caught his eye and he came to an abrupt halt.

The man who had just been poking his head into Wiper's room was laughing with Conis, and reached to take her hand in his.

Wiper turned his back quickly, and breathed heavily to calm himself. Violence would only make her resent him, he reminded himself—and with that thought, he found that it was surprisingly easy to ignore the urge to leap into the cafeteria and punch the man.

_Flowers_, he thought desperately and a tad wildly. _Flowers_. And he made his way to Upper Yard.

The trek through the forests of Upper Yard wasn't as easy as he had thought. For one thing, his body was still weaker than he was used to. For another thing, he was running around on foot, which made things considerably slower. For yet another, while he could remember that there were several places high in the trees where the trees grew beautiful pink and blue flowers that spread as far as the eye could see, he couldn't remember where this was. Of course, at the time he had been lying in wait to ambush a priest, so it was hardly surprising—but it was nevertheless irritating.

Wiper forced the burning in his limbs from his mind as he leapt from tree branch to tree branch, climbing the tallest tree he could find in the area. Once near the top, there were so many branches and leaves that it was no longer efficient to jump, and he crawled along the tree trunk.

When he emerged from the canopy, he looked around at the tops of trees—and saw only green leaves. Wiper huffed a sigh and was about to climb back down when something caught the corner of his eye. He squinted into the distance, but could not make out for certain whether there were actually patches of pink against the green, or if he were imagining it.

He climbed down the trunk and made his way across the forest floor in approximately the right direction. When he estimated that he was far enough, he climbed a tree until he emerged from the canopy—and saw the flowers in an expanse of pink and blue.

They were larger than he remembered, most as big as his head. But there were bigger ones and smaller ones, and right next to him was a pink one small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He saw in his mind's eye Conis cupping it in both hands, bringing it up to her face with a smile. Then he thought of the look on her face if he brought her here, to see the flowers spread so vastly, so vividly.

But she would never agree to that, Wiper knew. Even if she cared to accept his affections, she would still be a woman of principle, and on principle she did not believe that he ought to be jumping around on tree branches—or even moving very much at all.

He would give her this one flower, Wiper decided. He would promise her that when his wounds healed, he would take her to the place where they grew.

Wiper carefully, delicately plucked the small pink flower from the branch. He cradled it gently in his wounded hand as he used his good hand to climb back down. From there he made his way straight back to the hospital.

Conis was nowhere to be found in the hospital when he returned. He looked at the flower in his hand speculatively—it was already beginning to lose the vibrancy it had had. He put it in his cup of drinking water, hoping that it would remain fresh until he could find Conis.


	4. Chapter 4

Wiper glanced out the window. On an ordinary day, Conis would not come to his room between lunch and dinner unless there were some special check-up to be done. It wasn't yet dinnertime, so he settled down on the bed to wait.

He was laying back, imagining what it would be like to reconstruct the Shandian village, when the sound of the door opening broke him out of his reverie.

Wiper jolted upright—and stared at a brunette girl he didn't recognize. Skypeian, he noted belatedly, and then spent a moment reflecting in surprise that already the Skypeian-Shandian divide meant nothing to him.

"You are?" he asked, determinedly not growling.

"I'm Arte," said the girl, carrying the tray to his bedside.

"Thank you," said Wiper carefully as she placed the tray beside him. She glanced at him as if this surprised her, and then offered him a wide smile.

"I _knew_ people were wrong about you," she told him triumphantly.

"Wrong?" asked Wiper.

"You know, all sorts of people go on about how because you fought Skypeians for so long, that you must be completely lost now that the war's over. One of the other patients was saying that the real indication that the war is behind us will be when you see Skypeians and Shandians as equals. All this time I thought that was something we'd work towards, but it's already a thing of the past, isn't it?"

Wiper considered this. "I suppose it did take me a few days to stop flinching," he admitted reluctantly. "But the fact is, I haven't resented a Skypeian for being Skypeian since that night Enel was defeated."

Arte sat down on a chair beside his bed and peered into his face curiously. "Really? Because I heard that you treat Conis like she's not even here—and some people say that when you do talk to her, it's to yell at her."

Wiper winced. "That…was not my intention."

Arte cocked her head curiously, but smiled. "You should just talk to her like this," she told him, standing up again. "She's a good person—she'll see that soon enough."

She moved as if to leave, but then appeared to notice the flower. Arte approached it and gazed at it as if it were the most valuable treasure that there were.

"There's a patient a few rooms down who loves plants," she told him in a murmur. "He'd mentioned that the thing he missed the most about being here was how there aren't any flowers. And I'd love to buy him some, but I can't afford to. Mr. Wiper, would you mind if I gave this to him? I mean," she said hastily, "I wouldn't even think about it if you like it, but you seem like the type that would accept flowers with a certain amount of reluctance…I mean…"

Arte trailed off, biting her lip. Wiper bit his tongue and swallowed the resounding _"No!"_ He reminded himself that Conis probably thought him just as cold as the gossipers that Arte had mentioned. Arte was honest, Wiper reflected. He liked honest people. If he ever wanted Conis to see him as more than a grouchy patient, he would have to show some consideration.

"Go ahead," he said to Arte.

"Thank you!" she declared, beaming at him as if he had just declared that the war had ended all over again. "I'll let him know that it's from you—I'm sure he'll be very grateful!"

And then Arte was gone. Wiper sighed and leaned back. He glanced at his untouched meal, but he wasn't feeling particularly hungry. He had known that he didn't have a particularly good reputation, but somehow it made him sick to know that people _still_ thought that he was resentful of Skypeians as a people. It made him sick to think that Conis probably still believed that.

Standing, Wiper crossed to the window and jumped out for the second time that day. He walked around to the cafeteria window and peered inside, looking for blond, braided hair.

He found her quickly enough, and something heavy dropped into stomach all at once. She was sitting across from the same man as she had been at lunch. He was handing her a bouquet of assorted flowers that were unfamiliar to Wiper—no doubt expensive and rare.

Wiper shoved down the urge to storm inside and stomp on the bouquet. It was a good thing that Conis hadn't brought him his dinner before going to her own, he noted. He was lucky to have given Arte's patient the flower he had intended for Conis, because he could scarcely give it to her now.

He turned away from the window and returned to his room. He lay down and closed his eyes, and resolved not to think about anything until morning.

It was Conis who brought him his breakfast the next morning. Her eyes glanced at him coolly as usual. But then a smile spread across her face. It struck him like a physical blow that it had been all too long since she had smiled at him that way.

"I hear that you and Arte get along wonderfully," she said. "That you gave her a flower for that patient who loves plants?"

"Oh…yes," said Wiper awkwardly. _It was yours_, he wanted to say, but he reminded himself of her bouquet and held his tongue. But what else could he say?

"It was very kind of you," said Conis. "I'm afraid I haven't been-"

"I'm sorry," blurted Wiper. Conis blinked at him, and he averted his eyes. "I hear that people think that I am…less than grateful to you, and I want- I hope that you don't think so, but just in case you do—I want you to know that it isn't true."

Conis stared up at him as if he'd grown another head. Wiper's heart was in his throat.

"You're grateful to me?" she asked. She sounded wondering to Wiper's ears.

"Very—more than grateful," he said, and his heart was beating wildly.

"Thank you," said Conis with a beaming smile. "That means a lot to me."

"I-"

The door opened, and Wiper cut himself off. They glanced to the door.

"Come on, Conis," said the man from the day before. "We have to get going."

"Gaja," Conis huffed. "I'm working."

Wiper glanced between them. "Is he your…" He couldn't come up with a word to finish the question, but the man seemed to have understood.

"I'm her fiancé," he grinned.

"Ah," said Wiper, feeling rather lightheaded. "I see."

"Gaja," Conis hissed with narrowed eyes, "I think I need to have a word with you in the hallway."

"Why, certainly," said Gaja, and he winked at Wiper as Conis shoved him out the door.

The sound the door made as it closed behind them was the sound of something coming to an end.


	5. Chapter 5

Wiper spent the day trying very, very hard not to think about Conis. Every so often he felt the scent of anger sneak through—_Why couldn't she have told him sooner?_—but each time, he brushed it aside and deliberately turned his thoughts to the rebuilding of the Shandian village.

The next morning, he announced that he was in good enough condition to leave—much to the horror of the doctor—and joined his people in rebuilding their homes. It was a task to be reckoned with, because the chief and God Gan Fall had only just come to the agreement that the new Shandian village would be built in Upper Yard.

The fact was that the departure of Enel and his priests had not in itself made Upper Yard safe. There were still any number of traps set on the island, and worse, there was no one left around who knew what to look for. So while no one contested the Shandians' right to establish a home in Upper Yard, whether or not they ought to wait until the land was declared completely safe had been up for debate.

Now that a large area on the edge of the island nearest Angel Island had been thoroughly inspected, this was to become a new village. The Shandians were to be this town's first residents, and a bridge was being created to what remained of Angel Island; eventually, hope was that the barrier between Shandian and Skypeian would disappear altogether.

During the construction, Wiper decidedly did not think about Conis. He did not think about her fiancé or the hospital. He did not wonder how she was or what she was doing. But this became an increasingly difficult task as Laki—who had befriended her through Aisa, whom Conis had apparently looked after during the survival game—insisted on talking about her with increasing frequency. Wiper took to taking jobs in areas where he knew Laki would not be in order to avoid this, and wondered wryly how long it would be before he stopped feeling the same ache every time he heard her name.

Wiper had lost track of time how long it had been—a month? Two? More?—when he looked up from work one day and saw Conis smiling at him. He blinked a few times—but she did not disappear. Something rose from his chest up his spine, and he felt lightheaded.

"It's almost your lunch break, isn't it?" said Conis. "I hoped you might come and talk with me."

"I…was planning to work through the break," Wiper lied, averting his eyes only to see another familiar face behind her. He gritted her teeth and carefully did not glare as he inclined his head to her fiancé in acknowledgment.

Conis, however, directed a smile infused with fury at the man. "Gaja, I believe you had something to say?"

"Um, yes," squeaked the man, and Wiper noticed that he had a black eye. "I need to apologize for lying to you. I said I was Conis's fiancé. I lied because-"

He broke off when Conis directed another furious smile his way.

"Um, I was just leaving." The man turned on his heel and ran. Wiper blinked. He glanced at Conis, felt the ache, shoved it away and averted his eyes—and all at once realized that he didn't have to. He looked back at her in amazement.

"Do you have time to talk during lunch break?" asked Conis again.

"Yes," said Wiper, too stunned to say anything else.

They walked into the woods in silence, and it was several minutes before Wiper had himself under control enough to break it.

"Why didn't you want him to tell me why he'd lied?" He looked at her sideways.

Conis bit her lip. "I felt that was something I ought to tell you myself."

"Will you tell me, then?" asked Wiper.

"Yes, but…" Conis's eyes darted about aimlessly. "First, I think I should make something clear."

"Yes?"

"This…belief that there is nothing worse than looking at another man's intended is not one that Skypeians share."

Wiper blinked blankly.

"In fact, among my people, one man declaring a woman as his intended is like announcing that anyone else interested should declare his interest then and there or lose her forever. Socially, it isn't frowned upon for a woman to decline the original suitor in favor of another. It is only inappropriate after marriage."

Wiper swallowed, feeling something warm bubbling up from his stomach—something like hope.

"So Gaja only meant to…tease you, so to speak. I wouldn't even have known that this was a misunderstanding so much in need of correction if Miss Laki hadn't noticed that something was off and asked me about it. And she explained your engagement customs, and I…thought that perhaps your complete avoidance of me meant there was some hope."

Wiper looked at the rising color of her cheeks and ears, and did not touch her.

"Gaja believed that I would challenge him if he declared himself your intended," Wiper guessed.

"Hoped, perhaps," said Conis. "He meant to help me decide whether or not I ought to consider you…to consider wanting-" Conis cut herself off, biting her lip and looking away. "I'm sorry, I practiced this. But now all the words seem…wrong."

"You were interested in me?" asked Wiper.

"In a fashion," said Conis.

"But that was…a long while ago."

"Two and a half months, yes."

"During which you neither saw me, nor believed me interested in courting you."

"Yes to the latter, but I saw you often enough when I came to see Miss Laki."

Wiper looked at her quizzically. "I never saw you."

Conis flushed. "I thought you would have figured out that Gaja lied and known why he did, so I…avoided being seen by you."

"Will you come with me?" asked Wiper. "I want to show you something."

Conis looked up at him, her expression a picture of confusion. "I- of course," she said, and froze a moment later when she found herself scooped up in his arms.

He ran to the tree, a mere few miles away. He leapt up the branches, and set Conis down near the top.

"From here we have to crawl," he said. "Shall I carry you on my back?"

"I can do it," said Conis, her face set with determination.

Wiper sent her up first, secure in the knowledge that if she lost her balance he could catch her. When she reached the topmost branch, she looked down at him in confusion, crouched to avoid a face full of leaves.

"Now where?" she asked.

"One moment," said Wiper, pulling himself up beside her. He poked his head out of the canopy and looked around—_thank goodness,_ the flowers were still there, and still blooming, though now more blue than pink—gauging the most scenic direction. He crouched again, and turned Conis in the right direction. "Now close your eyes," he told her, "and stand up. Then open your eyes."

Conis did as he instructed. He watched her eyes open, and her baffled expression transform into wonder.

"Mr. Wiper," she whispered. "Mr. Wiper!"

"Last time I came here there were more pink than blue," he said. "They reminded me of you."

"The- the one that you gave to Arte's patient?" asked Conis.

"It was yours," said Wiper. "But—well, a good cause, and your friend was giving you a nice assortment-"

He broke off as he found himself with an armful of Conis, and had to concentrate to avoid losing his balance.

"Thank you," said Conis. Wiper tightened his arms around her.

Everything was colorful.


End file.
